Page 84 of Story of My Life
“And I waitedall day. I’m on a deadline. I don’t have time to waste. If it’s too inconvenient or you think I’m too hideous for you to agree to take on one fake date, then I need to move on.”
“You’re not moving on to my brother.”
She pinned me with a glare. “And you’re not saying, ‘Gee, Hazel, I don’t find you too hideous to take on a fake date.’”
At least she was finally looking at me. But the grip she had on the scissors was concerning.
“Saturday. Seven o’clock.”
“In the morning? Can’t you guys at least give me until eight, preferably nine thirty?”
I crossed my arms. “Seven p.m. Prepare to be dated.”
It was the stupidest threat I’d ever made, and the twinkle in her brown eyes told me it was probably going to end up in the pages of a book.
“Fine. I will,” she said saucily. “But just so you know, I’m expecting your A game. Not some half-assed attempt.”
“What makes you think I have an A game?”
She looked me up and down. “If you don’t, it’ll be one of life’s great disappointments.”
“Fine,” I said, returning her once-over. “As long as you don’t act like it’s some kind of science experiment and weird me out.”
“Deal. But I’m bringing my notebook.”
“Whatever. One more thing.”
“What’s that?”
“Let’s keep this between the two of us,” I said. “If anyone catches us on anything that looks like a date, it’ll make the bird murder rumors look like nothing.”
“Fair enough. I wouldn’t want to damage your reputation,” she said sweetly. “But I’m totally telling Zoey.”
I was already regretting this. But at least I wouldn’t be sitting at home while one of my idiot brothers pretended to be the hero.
20
TWO-WHEELED MENACE
HAZEL
The next morning,I was determined to appear to be unruffled. Just because I, Hazel Freaking Hart, had my first date in over a decade with a man who had inadvertently inspired me to change my entire life was no reason to let anyone—besides Bertha, the chubby raccoon that I bumped into on the stairs—know I was hyperventilating on the inside.
Sure, it was just a fake date for research purposes, but I still had to put forth real-date effort.
By the time the Bishops arrived at the butt crack of dawn—7:30 in the morning—I was dressed, made-up, caffeinated, and typing gibberish into my document while I did a mental assessment of my wardrobe. I’d spent my married life on two extreme ends of the clothing spectrum: workout wear and cocktail attire. Neither seemed appropriate for a small-town date with a blue-collar hottie.
“Mornin’,” Levi said, pausing in the library doorway.
“Good morning,” I said a little too chipperly.
Cam glanced my way, grunted, and continued on to the war zone of the kitchen.
Gage poked his head into the room. “Morning, Hazel. Just wanted to remind you that you have a date.”
I blinked several times in a row. Had Cam told his brothers about our arrangement after he explicitly told me not to? Or was this Gage’s way of asking me out? Or did one of the brothers from the town meeting think I’d actually said yes to their strange offers?
“I do?” I said, trying for casual but landing somewhere near being strangled.
